Fable: Edge of the World

by Christie Golden

  “I don’t like any of this, Majesty,” Timmins said. “It’s too suspicious. We could send a small scouting party to Samarkand to check out Shan’s story before committing resources.”

  The king looked at his friends, then made his decision. “That would be wisdom, Jack, if I did not feel in my bones that time is truly of the essence. I agree with Sabine and Kalin. Turning us against one another—killing the messenger—is exactly what it would want. I’m not my brother. We have laws in Albion. Someone is innocent until proven guilty. If Shan betrays us, or if we find proof that there is darkness within him, rest assured that I will deal with him.”

  Both Ben and Timmins looked unhappy but nodded. He was the king, after all.

  “Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us, then,” Ben said.

  “Indeed we do,” the king said. “But no more work tonight. I can hear that the celebration is still in full swing downstairs. My lovely bride and I, however, will be retiring.”

  “Of course,” Ben said with a straight face. “Our rulers need their rest.”

  “Absolutely,” said the king. “A great deal of rest. Very, er, restful rest. And lots of it.”

  Laylah blushed, but she was smiling. Ben clapped his friend on the back, bowed to the new queen, and headed downstairs. The others followed, Page pausing to hug Laylah quickly before departing.

  The king turned to his new queen. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “For what? For immediately responding to a threat to innocent people? For doing what you need to do to protect your kingdom?” She shook her head. “No, beloved. It is clear where you need to be and what you need to be doing.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Later, yes. But for now, this is all I need to be doing.” He kissed her, sweetly but passionately. She slipped her arms around his neck, her lips soft and yielding. They were both breathing quickly when she pulled back.

  “No,” she said. Surprised, he looked at her.

  “No?”

  “No,” she repeated, then added, her voice soft and low, “That is most definitely not all you need to be doing.”

  For answer, he swept her up in his arms and went with all due haste to their bedchamber.

  Chapter Four

  “Love, wake up.”

  Laylah blinked sleepily, for a moment uncertain where she was. Memory of the night before rushed back to her and she smiled, turning over to look up at her husband’s face.

  “It is still dark outside,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. “There is plenty of time for more … rest.”

  He kissed her hand. “Actually, it’s the middle of the night. We will have some more time to, er, rest later. But first … there’s something I need to show you. And it’s best done at this hour. Get dressed and follow me.”

  Laylah was confused but obeyed, slipping into a simple dress and stepping into a pair of boots. He placed a cloak around her shoulders. “It’s cold outside,” he said.

  “… Outside?”

  “Outside. Come on!” Shaking her head in confusion, Laylah took her husband’s hand as he led her past the dying fire to the wide double doors at the far end of his chambers. She was glad of the cloak at once; the skies were clear, and moonlight shone on the snow-covered gardens. “It’s lovely in the summer though Jasper always said it was sinister out here at night. Of course,” he added, “he only saw it at night the one time, I believe.”

  “When was that?” Laylah pulled the cloak more tightly around her. They walked past the area where King Logan’s statue once stood, and she didn’t think Jasper’s assessment was altogether wrong.

  “The night he, Walter, and I escaped,” he said. “I’m going to take you where they took me. It’s a place I never knew about. Only a very few are aware of its existence even today, and only two of us know how to get there.” He smiled down at her. “Three, after tonight.”

  “What a great mystery!” she teased, and his smile faded a little bit.

  “Not so much a mystery—a secret. An important one.” They passed topiaries with snow for hats and headed toward a large, stone structure. It led down into the earth.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to meet my parents … sort of,” he said, and Laylah realized that this was the royal family catacombs. And suddenly, she was frightened. At once, she banished the feeling—did she not trust her husband completely? Nonetheless, Laylah would much have preferred to be nestled in a warm bed with him rather than visiting his parents’ tombs at midnight.

  He touched a panel, and the doors creaked open. “I am surprised it isn’t locked,” she said. She was relieved to see that candles were lit.

  “No one would desecrate the tomb of the Hero of the Spire,” said the king. “As you can see by the candles, it’s tended regularly.”

  The place was beautiful, in its fashion, thought Laylah. Her people, too, were buried underground, but she had never seen anything so lavish and ornate. Her eyes widened as they approached the tombs, and she gazed up at the larger-than-life statue of a hooded, winged figure that appeared to be weeping into its hands.

  “I am sorry they didn’t live to meet you,” the king said, indicating the stone tombs. “They would have loved you as much as I do.”

  “You miss them,” she said quietly.

  “I do. I always will. But their lineage will continue with our children.” He smiled warmly at her. “Let me show you something.”

  He took her to the right side of the winged, weeping statue and knelt. Placing his hand on one of the stones, he pushed. With a grinding sound, the stone retracted.

  Laylah gasped. The statue was coming to life! It lowered its hands and—

  She realized an instant later that it was merely a mechanical movement, that the hands were connected to a chain. She let out a nervous laugh. “What is it holding?” she asked, recovering herself.

  The object in the carved hands was circular, intertwining hues of gold and blue in loops and swirls. It looked like a small shield. “That’s the Guild Seal. It belonged to my father, and now to me. And, in a way, to you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, as Walter described it to me, it chooses those who have the power inside them. Who have the potential to become legends.” He picked it up, holding it respectfully. “The first time I touched this, it sent me on quite a journey.” He smiled fondly, remembering. “I want you to be part of this.”

  “Part of what, my love?”

  He took her hand and placed it on the Seal. The simple gold band that united them as husband and wife glinted. He placed his own hand over it and closed his eyes.

  She heard … no, the words were not uttered, they were inside her head, and she felt a faint prickling of fear and wonder combined as her husband “spoke” without speaking.

  The Seal is my lineage. She who touches it now is my wife, heart of my heart. Grant her the gifts you grant to me.

  There was a bright flash of light. Energy crackled around Laylah, alarming but somehow comforting too, in a strange way. When Laylah could see again, she was standing in a brightly lit chamber.

  “Ah, greetings, Your Majesties,” said a familiar, cheery voice.

  “J-Jasper?” She blinked and turned, seeing the ramrod-straight, elderly butler. Jasper bowed.

  “Of course, Madame. Welcome to the Sanctuary!”

  “Sanctuary?” Laylah repeated, stunned, and she realized what had happened. Her husband had used his Will, what some people called magic, to bring her here. She knew, of course, that he was a Hero, and she had heard the stories, but this was the first time she had ever actually seen him use his Will. Did this place truly even exist, or was it somehow real and unreal at once? She swayed, and he caught her—his hand strong and gentle on her arm.

  Laylah looked up at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re completely safe here,” he said, and she knew she was. If this place was connected to her beloved, how could she be anything but safe? She tried to t
ake it all in—the white-and-black squares on the floor; the alcoves ringing the round chamber in which statues, bearing weapons or clothing, struck various poses; on the table a giant map that looked like Albion in miniature.

  “Only you, Jasper, and I know about the Sanctuary,” the king was saying, and she turned her full attention to him. “Walter did, too. He helped me find the Seal, and came with me on my first visit. He’d heard my father talking about the Sanctuary but had never been here before. I think Ben and Page have an inkling that such a place exists. But even they don’t know how to reach it, nor could they—or anyone—if they tried. The Guild Seal is the only way in or out.”

  Laylah looked down at the Seal, then at Jasper. “Jasper has sworn fealty to me,” the king continued. “He has my full trust, and I his. It’s a powerful oath. You, my love, agreed to marry me. Thus, my Seal obeys the two of you. I removed a small piece of it to give to Jasper, so that he may come and go as he pleases.”

  Jasper held up a hand. A small ring with a blue gem winked in the light.

  “What … is this place for?” Laylah asked.

  The king grinned at Jasper. “Please enlighten her.”

  Jasper beamed. He proceeded to explain to the queen that this site was not only a refuge for the king should he require it in the event of a siege, but a place where weapons, outfits, and other memorabilia from his adventuresome past would always be protected and ready for use, if needed. There was also a book here on how to be a Hero that had proven to be “utterly indispensable,” crowed Jasper.

  “I am no Hero,” said Laylah.

  “Nor am I, my Lady,” said Jasper, “but we can nonetheless be of great service to this young king whom we love.” He coughed. “In a perfectly class-appropriate, avuncular manner, of course.”

  “When we return I will replace the seal,” the king said. “It is safer there than in our chambers, or indeed anywhere in the palace. The catacombs are seldom visited, and it is not far for you to get to. All you need to do is hold the seal and think of the Sanctuary. And to return, select a place on this map and do the same thing.”

  “I don’t understand … how does it …”

  He stroked her hair gently. “It is all part of what is inherent in my bloodline … inherent in being a Hero. Even Jasper doesn’t know exactly how it works … only that it does. In this, your will is my Will, as it were.”

  She swallowed hard. “You should take the Seal with you,” she said. “If you are in danger—”

  He frowned. “My soldiers deserve a king who will lead them, not flee from battle. No, my love. It is hard enough for me to leave you behind. Give me the comfort of knowing you are safe in case anything happens here, and I will better be able to do what I must.”

  Laylah nodded. It was bitter, but she understood. The last thing her love needed was to be distracted with worry over her. “I have fine advisors. I am sure all will be well in your absence.”

  “If I have anything to do with it, not a hair on Her Majesty’s crowned head will be harmed,” Jasper declared.

  Laylah smiled fondly at him. “Well then,” she said, “surely no harm will befall me.”

  “At least not your hair,” said the king, then grinned. “Thank you Jasper. I know you’ll look after her.”

  “With my life, Your Majesty. Now, if I am not mistaken, there was a wedding at the castle earlier today, was there not? And usually after a wedding day falls a wedding night. I am not so old that I don’t know what that means. So, with the utmost respect: Shoo, the both of you.”

  Chapter Five

  Despite the direness of their mission here, Ben found himself smiling as he and Timmins rode up to the huge double doors that served as the gates to the town of Blackholm. It was midday, and the doors were wide open. The only tracks in the freshly fallen snow were foot- and hoofprints leading in and out. No trampled or bloody snow to warn of anything untoward.

  “You seem to think we’ll receive a warm welcome,” Timmins observed.

  “For once, I believe so, yes. I’ve rather fond memories of my time here.”

  “I’ve read your account,” said Timmins.

  That surprised Ben. “Really?”

  “Mmm,” said Timmins. “I must be fair and say I suspected a tad bit of embellishment.”

  “Well,” said Finn cheerfully, “perhaps a tad. But if I’d really been embellishing, I’d have gotten the girl.”

  “The ‘girl’ would have handed your arse to you on a platter if you’d tried anything,” said Timmins.

  Since the “girl” in question was Page, Finn was forced to agree.

  Word had obviously been sent of their coming, for curious onlookers started to gather at the gates. Ben took off his hat, exposing his gold hair, and waved. A cheer went up, and cries of Finn! Finn! Finn! filled the air. It was, Ben mused, a damned shame that he didn’t get this sort of reception everywhere.

  Standing waiting to greet them was Russell, the son of the late “Old Henry” and the Lord Mayor of the town. Beside him was Captain Thorpe, a powerfully built man with a bristly red beard that was just starting to show silver threads of gray. Finn remembered them both. Russell had been a timid fellow and a poor shot when they had first met, but the years and the tragedy he had endured had made a fine man out of him. Thorpe had once been with His Majesty’s guards, but had left due to disagreements on policy. Finn had been here six years prior, to help defend the city twice against attacks from hideous Half-breeds, part man and part beast, designed to serve Reaver. Ben’s brother William had been among the Half-breeds, retaining enough of his humanity to kill himself and his increasingly mindless “pack” in order to save the inhabitants of Blackholm.

  And his brother.

  Ben chased away the sorrow. It had not been the outcome he had wanted, but he knew that William had found peace. The years had been good to Blackholm, it seemed, with Russell their mayor and Thorpe, back on the right side of the law, as their protector.

  “The Hero of Blackholm,” said Russell, grinning, pumping Ben’s arm so hard the older man feared it might fall off. “Come back to take up my offer as deputy mayor, I hope?”

  “No such luck, I fear,” Ben said. “Allow me to introduce Captain Jack Timmins. He’s head of His Majesty’s guards.”

  Thorpe saluted smartly, and Timmins returned it. “We know one another,” Timmins said. He grinned and extended a hand. “Good to hear you’ve rejoined us, Thorpe. We’ll need good soldiers like yourself.”

  “Knew I wouldn’t be seeing you otherwise, Timmins,” said Thorpe. Ben raised a blond eyebrow and shrugged.

  “Well,” he said, “since we’re all such jolly pals, shall we discuss this over a drink?”

  The small tavern that serviced the town was much cheerier and less riddled with bullet holes than Ben remembered it. They were served tankards of frothy ale “on the house” from the barkeep Ben last remembered as holding a sword in his hand and hacking at the Half-breeds. They clinked their mugs, raised a toast to “soldiers and all who value them,” and took a drink.

  Ben got right down to business. All four of them had looked horrors right in the eye as they fought them. There was no need for softening. Russell and Thorpe listened gravely as Ben explained what Shan had told them and what the plan was.

  “So you’re looking for recruits,” said Thorpe finally.

  “Aye, as many as you can spare,” said Timmins. “Ben tells me you all stood together to defend your town.”

  “That’s because it was our town,” said Russell. Ben was surprised. The anxious-to-please youth he remembered was no more. Russell was still amiable, but he certainly had grown up. “And if threat comes to it, we’ll defend it.”

  “Russell,” said Ben, “by the time anything nasty gets to Blackholm, you might not be able to defend against it.”

  “Who says anything will even come here?” asked Thorpe. “All I’ve heard is the ravings of a young Samarkandian boy. He might have imagined it all.”

  “Then h
e must have read my memoirs,” snapped Ben, “because he certainly manages to accurately describe something I’ve fought firsthand!”

  “Something we both have done,” said Timmins.

  Ben had had enough of this. He leaned forward. “Look. Are you in or are you out?”

  They were silent for a moment. Then Russell said slowly, “Ben, you came and helped defend our town when you had absolutely no stake in doing so. I can’t rightfully say that now, when you’re asking our help, we won’t give it to you. Thorpe?”

  Thorpe nodded slowly. “Just so as we’re clear—we’re not sending every strong-limbed youth in the village to Samarkand.”

  “That was never the idea,” said Timmins. “Certainly, some need to stay behind in case the darkness encroaches here. But,” he added, “the greater the force that can be brought to bear where the darkness is strong, the more chance to prevent anything from happening in Albion at all.”

  Thorpe grunted. “We’ll send as many as we can spare,” he said grudgingly. “Though your young monarch better be right about this.”

  Ben had no response to that, so he simply drank.

  The king was proud of his people. Once recruitment got under way, they came to Bowerstone for their assignments on horse, in cart or caravan, or on foot. Some of them had weapons to contribute, or food stores. Others had nothing but the clothes on their backs, a few coppers in their purses, and a willingness to serve.

  The monarch kept expecting Reaver to show up any minute now, offering some new spit-polished weaponry in exchange for something degrading and cruel. But he didn’t, though Reaver Industries—sans child labor these days—was going great guns, as the turn of phrase went.

  Both the King and Queen of Albion were no strangers to the men and women willing to fight. They moved regularly among the tent cities that sprang up around Bowerstone proper, making sure the recruits were as comfortable as possible and keeping up their spirits. Ben undertook training the most raw of them, while Timmins worked on getting an entire army up, running, and on Kalin’s ships.